


Five Times McCoy Hunted For A Perfect Place To Sleep And The One Time He Found It

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek Incandescent Hearts [38]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aggravated Spock, Crack, Cuddles, Developing Relationship, Exhausted McCoy, Exhaustion, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Insomnia, Irate Women, M/M, McCoy Is On Automatic Pilot, Odd Locations, Pining Spock, Pre-Relationship, Protective Spock, Sexual Relations Implied, Sleeplessness, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy McCoy, ridiculous situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 12:16:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16197359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: It's almost ridiculous how tired Leonard McCoy is, yet he cannot seem to find a place where he can relax enough to get some much needed rest.  His quest takes him to some odd corners of the Enterprise until he finally finds the perfect spot.





	Five Times McCoy Hunted For A Perfect Place To Sleep And The One Time He Found It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnlySlightlyObsessed1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySlightlyObsessed1/gifts).
  * Inspired by [5 Times Spock and McCoy Couldn't Get Away From the Crew](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163036) by [OnlySlightlyObsessed1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySlightlyObsessed1/pseuds/OnlySlightlyObsessed1). 



> Twenty-four hours ago, I had no idea that I would be posting this fic. Sometimes when inspiration hits, it hits hard and fast. So this fic is, virtually, hot off the press. (Or in this case, the word processor.)

1.

Leonard McCoy was so tired. He felt that he could sleep anywhere. His eyes were wide-open and unblinking, but he really wasn’t registering where he was walking. What he’d experienced during the last few days would do that to a guy, or to anybody who hasn’t had that much quality rest or sustaining food or diversion from work lately.

Two straight shifts that featured a continuous stream of patients would’ve been bad enough if everyone would’ve had the same complaint. But everything from ‘the galloping shits’ (as McCoy so grossly muttered to M’Benga) to an ectopic pregnancy showed up in sickbay. A guy even appeared with an ass full of wood splinters. McCoy never did learn the exact details on that one or how the guy had managed to find that much wood on a Starship. Or how the guy had acquired the splinters (that was the detail that McCoy really wanted answered.) All the guy could tell McCoy was that the splinters burned like hell.

After he was finally relieved, McCoy did not even get a well-deserved meal at the mess hall. He felt as if he tried to spoon soup into his mouth, it would flow out the other side of his mouth and drip off his chin. He considered slurping soup or drinking it, but there would probably be people present who would be shocked by his untidiness. As for chewing more challenging foods, forget it. He didn’t have the energy to chew. Indeed, he wondered if he even remembered how to chew.

So he stumbled to his quarters. A shower sounded tempting and fresh pajamas, but he piled down on his bed without even undressing. He closed his eyes, sighed, and waited for sleep to overtake him.

Then his eyes flew open. Nothing. He could not sleep in his own bed in his own quarters. Why, he did not know. But sleep, he could not. With a disgusted grunt, McCoy finally pulled himself to his feet and staggered out of his door.

He must find somewhere to sleep! Somewhere on this flying deathtrap, he should be able to find solace!

But where?!

 

2.

As McCoy stumbled along, he looked like a zombie with his fish-eyed face and unsteady gait. He was, in fact, asleep on his feet. He entered a room and a pulsing throb filled the air. McCoy paused. He loved the rhythm that surrounded him. The pulsing was soothing and seemed to coincide with the beating of his heart. He found a spot, lay down, and curled in a tight knot. Ah, sleep! Sleep at last!

But not for long, it seemed. All too soon an inquisitive voice awakened him.

“Lad, what are ye doing down there?” someone wanted to know.

McCoy opened his tired eyes and squinted up at Montgomery Scott. “Sleeping. What are you doing up there?”

“I work here! This is the engine room and you’re coiled around an expensive monitor! Very delicate she is and priceless to the operation of this Starship!”

“I’m rather priceless to the operation of this Starship, too,” McCoy muttered as he pulled himself to his shaky feet. "In case anybody hadn't noticed lately, I'm damned important around here!"

“Maybe, but you canna keep this Starship from exploding the way she can, now can you?! Just be careful of her now, lad, will you?!”

“I’m not hurting your precious--” McCoy tripped and caught himself by grabbing the expensive monitor in question. Something inside the piece of equipment deepened its hum as if it was about to register its disdain about being manhandled so rudely. It must be female, McCoy decided.

Scotty’s eyes enlarged as he gasped in distress.

McCoy squinted his eyes shut, then cautiously opened them one at a time. “Did we blow up yet?”

“No! But no thanks to you, Doctor! Be off with you now and leave my delicate machines alone!”

McCoy gave Scotty’s ‘delicate’ machines a scowl and thought that the machinery was probably sturdier than Scotty realized, but scooted away from them just to be on the safe side.

“Dr. McCoy, if you don’t mind my saying so, you need to find a decent bed for yourself, man. It’s not good for you to be wandering around the ship like this. You canna harm yourself!”

“Love you, too, Scotty,” McCoy muttered as he stumbled away.

 

3.

The locker room at the Enterprise’s gym had never held much charm for McCoy before, but now he stood eyeing an out-of-the-way bench in a dark corner. Wondering how it had gotten that far away from the showers and not really caring, he considered a rack of clean, fluffy towels and how they might work as bedding. A few moments later he had stacked towels on the bench, had tunneled himself into a pile of those towels, and had scrunched his head around on top of another towel until he had found a fairly comfortable position on his side.

McCoy sighed. Not the Hilton. But it was warm and cozy and quiet.

It did not stay quiet for long.

“Sharon! Did you see the way that new engineer was looking at you?!”

“Yes! I think I’ll let him have the opportunity to get into my pants, too!”

Something not too heavy landed on McCoy’s head. What the hell?! Who were those women?! Why were they in his bedroom?!

“Let’s hurry and get changed, Elaine. I’m dying for a swim!”

“Me, too!”

Four voices? Four different women?! What were four women doing in his bedroom?!

“Who left this bunch of clean towels here? Oh, well, they’ll be soft to sit on.”

Suddenly, a weight dropped on McCoy’s lower legs, and he sat up with a startled yelp.

His yelp did not compare to the screams from the half-nude women. When McCoy saw their state of undress, he explained, “It’s alright, ladies. I’m a doctor.”

But he couldn’t make himself heard for the accusations of “Pervert!” that rang in his ears. 

How he had managed to escape those irate women, he could not have explained. McCoy just knew that he had been lucky to do so. Those women had looked mad, especially that redhead with the large breasts. He was enough of a man to notice her pleasing figure. But she was only one of the angry women. He’d pit them anytime against any assorted group of aliens in the universe. The aliens wouldn’t have a chance.

 

4.

McCoy was struck with sudden inspiration.

Why hadn’t he thought about it before?! 

The enlisted men’s dorm was a perfect spot. With everyone coming and going, no one would notice someone squirreled away in an obscure alcove. It was just like a little private nest, McCoy decided as he pulled the soft bedding around him. Why he could not sleep in his own bed, he did not know. But here, he felt comfortable. Maybe he was just needing new surroundings. Whatever, it was certainly working as he yawned and snuggled down into the covers. His last thought was wondering why an enlisted man would have such a feminine scent to his bedding.

McCoy got the answer to that question quicker than he really wanted to learn it. It seemed like only moments since he’d closed his eyes, but it had probably been at least an hour. However, it was still during his deep rem sleep. So once again, he found himself completely puzzled by his present surroundings and situation as he was confronted by an irate person.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?!”

That voice sounded familiar.

McCoy opened his eyes in the bright light that was suddenly all around him, squinted, and looked up at one angry woman.

Yep, the redhead. The one with the big breasts. And they were trembling in anger in tune to her thundering demands which he couldn’t begin to answer.

“Isn’t this the enlisted men’s quarters?” McCoy answered innocently.

“Do I look like an enlisted man?!”

McCoy grinned at her half-dressed state. “Hardly.”

She sputtered, trying to find a properly scathing retort, but failed.

McCoy used that break in her barrage to plead for civility. “Beg pardon, ma’am,” McCoy started, swinging into his best Southern gentleman accent. “I am so sorry to inconvenience you--”

“I didn’t ask for Colonel Sanders to start talking! What the hell are you?! Are you stalking me?!”

“Ma’am, I assure you that you would NEVER be the object of my stalking--”

“Are you saying that I am not woman enough for you?!”

Though ferocious, the redhead was a damn good looking woman. McCoy grinned in appreciation.

“Upon second glance, I assure you that you are all woman--”

It’s a wonder that McCoy lived until he was safely out of the enlisted women’s quarters. The redhead with the big breasts had other plans for him, and none of them had been nice.

 

5.

He was lucky he’d survived with his life, McCoy decided as he roamed the corridors of the Enterprise. But that still wasn’t finding him a place to sleep. The morgue crossed his mind. It would be quiet enough, but he surely wasn’t THAT desperate. Yet.

He checked the pantry in the kitchen. Too busy. The day room. Even at night, it was still busy. In the daytime, it was a zoo with all sorts of foot traffic.

He finally found a hidden area and made his nest, such as it was. No one would challenge him for the place to be used for sleeping purposes. It seemed almost lonesome, but McCoy was going to try to ignore that aspect. He didn’t want companionship. He craved sleep. So sleep he got until--

“Dr. McCoy, this really isn’t a good place for you to be sleeping.”

McCoy looked up at Sulu as he and Chekov stood over him. They didn’t look understanding at all. In fact, they looked like he was the one who was imposing on them instead of the other way around. After all, he had been here first. But McCoy had the feeling that argument wouldn’t be impressing the belligerent acting couple very much.

McCoy moved and groaned to himself. The chair he had curled up in wasn’t the most comfortable, either. Of course, its purpose wasn’t for sleeping but for sitting.

“The observatory is too cold and open for proper rest,” Sulu further explained, finally trying to be a little more humane. “You need to be finding a warm bed to be sleeping in.”

A warm bed! What a wonderful suggestion!

McCoy got to his feet and staggered away.

Sulu drew his arm around Chekov’s shoulders. “Come, Pavel, let us look at the stars. They seem beautiful this evening.”

Chekov looked over his shoulder with worry. “Will he be alright, Hikaru?”

“He will now,” Sulu answered with a kindly smile. “He couldn’t stay here. He would’ve gotten ill before long. And we cannot have our Dr. McCoy off his feet.” He squeezed Chekov. “Don’t worry. He will go to someone who will care for him.”

 

6.

Spock answered his door. “Doctor McCoy. How pleasant.” He could hear the sneer in his own voice, but doubted that McCoy could. Spock was not feeling up to company, especially since he was tired from the hectic schedule of the last few days, also. Not even meditation was helping him to relax so that he could get the rest he needed. And now, on top of everything else, he seemed to have gotten the uninvited companionship of one exhausted, cranky doctor.

“You got it hotter than the hubs of hell in here, Vulcan?!” McCoy demanded. "Got the doorknobs sweaty and beginning for mercy?!"

Spock frowned at McCoy's slander. “I have my quarters at a comfortable temperature for my constitution; yes.”

McCoy set his eyes on Spock's bed and promptly set his sights on it. “Great! Just what I’m after!”

Spock was thinking of asking why McCoy was shouting, but he did not get the opportunity.

McCoy walked around him without acknowledging him further.

Spock turned to watch McCoy stumble across his quarters. “Please come in, Doctor. No, of course you did not interrupt me.”

"That's good," McCoy muttered. With a huge sigh of relief, he collapsed across Spock’s bed and immediately fell into what could pass as sleep.

“Do make yourself comfortable, Doctor,” Spock muttered. “No, you are not inconveniencing me at all. Feel free to think of my quarters as your own.” Spock wondered if his tongue would fall out with his obvious lie. But it had been a social lie so that he could still appear to be a gracious host in face of McCoy’s disruption of his regular routine.

Maybe his penis would fall off, though. That punishment had nothing to do with his social fibbing, but with the fact that Spock realized that he had McCoy lying helpless in his bed. How many times had he envisioned McCoy in his bed. And now the good doctor was.

Spock pursed his lips. He might want McCoy, but not this way. Not helpless. Not unaware. He wanted McCoy conscious. And willing. And eager. Not, not-- whatever this was.

No, now McCoy was someone he must protect. And also, someone who was a little annoying because Spock was tired himself and needed rest. All thoughts of passion must be shelved for now, and he must consider other matters.

An unintelligent mumbling erupted from McCoy as he fought bedding, then he pounded Spock’s pillow into submission and buried his face in it.

“Is there anything I may get for you, Doctor?” Spock asked the sleeping man with just an edge to his voice. He couldn’t have sexual relations with McCoy. He couldn’t even sleep. “Pajamas? Soothing music?” Spock took a glance at the occupied bed. “Some place for me to sleep?”

Somehow, McCoy heard the last question. “Right here,” he mumbled, pounding the narrowness beside him. “Lots of room. Right beside me.”

Spock eyed the man sprawled all over his bed. Still the same problems presented themselves. No sex. No sleep. “I will stay on my couch.”

That almost angered McCoy. He raised up with eyes blazing. “You will sleep with me, or I’ll know the reason why!”

“Neither one of us could sleep comfortably,” Spock noted reasonably. "That is the reason why."

Then McCoy did something that Spock never figured he’d do. He scooted to the side of the bed and got a pleading look on his face.

“Please? I’ll sleep better if I know that you are comfortable, too.”

Spock doubted it, but complied. He lay down and the two men went into each others’ arms, like it was the most natural thing for them to do. They sighed, patted each other to make sure they were really real, then quickly went to sleep. And they slept that way for many hours and woke up refreshed and ready for new challenges.

But they didn’t immediately get up to meet the new day. After bathroom visits, they returned to bed for awhile. And part of the time, they even actually did sleep.

But not all of it.

It turned out that cuddles were the best antidote for insomnia. At least it was for Leonard McCoy. It’s not known if it was alright for Mr. Spock. But he certainly wasn’t fighting the opportunity to sleep in Dr. McCoy’s arms.

That is, when they slept.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was also inspired by Esperata's comment on '5 Times Spock And McCoy Couldn't Get Away From The Crew,' so thanks are headed that way. Esperata's comment: "I love the idea of the crew all unanimously sneaking round the slumbering doctor no matter where he collapses." I deviated somewhat from that plot bunny, but my idea sprung from it. btw, Esperata's plot bunny would make a cute fic.
> 
> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines.


End file.
